


Phil Coulson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. (that maybe isn’t all bad)

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Philinda - Freeform, Philinda Secret Santa, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 04:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: He lets out a groan and slowly turns back to the team. “Okay. Someone tell me something else horrible happened and that wasn’t all because of me?”“Oh no,” Daisy says, arms crossed. “On a scale of 1-10, you’re pretty fucked.”“Or more accurately, not,” Fitz interjects.





	Phil Coulson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. (that maybe isn’t all bad)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Plechka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plechka/gifts).



> Written for the tumblr Philinda Secret Santa Exchange. 
> 
> Assume space never happened, mmkay?

Phil Coulson is never surprised when things go awry.

The mission was supposed to be simple.

Get in, get the intel, get out.

And yet he’s still stumbling back onto base hours late- with broken comms, tattered clothes, and covered in a substance that he really doesn’t want to know the origin of.

The team meets him in the bay, Daisy at the front. “You look like shit,” she offers.

“Thanks,” he growls. He pulls a stick out from his sleeve.

Simmons is close behind her. “Sir! What happened? Piper was back hours ago and you two were supposed to be working in tandem.”

“Yeah. That went south.”

Fitz breaks in- “We’ve been trying to reach you and your comm should have auto-GPS locked on-“ He sighs- part exasperation, part realization. “And you don’t have your comm.”

Phil winces.

“Made the sole benefactor of Nick Fury’s toolbox but can’t keep a bloody comm for more than a week at a time..” Fitz trails off as Phil tries to focus on anything besides the ringing in his ears.

He scans the room for Melinda, the only voice he hasn’t heard yet.

A moment later, he really wishes he hadn’t.

“Did you get the intel?” Her voice is calm and measured.

_Shit_.

He tries to duplicate her tone. “No. Had to get out.”

“Perfect.” She slides past him, brushing just a bit too hard against his shoulder. “Completely fucking worth it.”

He lets out a groan and slowly turns back to the team. “Okay. Someone tell me something else horrible happened and that wasn’t all because of me?”

“Oh no,” Daisy says, arms crossed. “On a scale of 1-10, you’re pretty fucked.”

“Or more accurately, not,” Fitz interjects.

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaims, smacking his head lightly. “What he means to say,” she continues with a glare, “is that Agent May was very concerned about you.”

Phil opens his mouth to argue- he really doesn’t think this even cracks the top five in stupidest choices he’s made.

“I’d go make it up to her,” Daisy says. “I really don’t want to deal with angry May in the morning.”

Fitz shakes his head. “I wouldn’t go near her- there’s an extra couch in my bunk that you can use. Wait it out until the morning.”

Simmons counters his idea and soon the two are bickering and Phil really can’t take anymore.

“Alright!,” he yells. “I appreciate all the dating advice, but I got this.”

He’s really not sure that he does.

———

After showering (twice) and taking stock of the damage (scrapes, bruises and a jacket he really fucking liked), he goes in search of Melinda.

He finds her in the gym, making quick work of the bag hanging in the middle of the room.

“Care for a partner?”

Even between heavy breaths, her voice is still stern and even. “I wouldn’t.” She answers without making eye contact.

He’s a sucker for punishment, so he steps closer.

“Well. It’s been a bit of a day, and it probably can’t get too much worse. So I’ll take my chances.”

She’s silent, but moves towards the mats against the back wall.

He follows and soon they are in ready stances.

Sparring with her is something normal- it’s maybe the most consistent thing in the past twenty years of his life.

What’s not normal is how _hard_ she’s hitting him.

Phil grunts as her fist makes contact with his midsection. She spins and he reflexively grabs her ankle.

“We going to talk about this?,” he wheezes.

Melinda twists free and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

He reflexively ducks out of a headlock and she momentarily gasps in pain.

He probably shouldn’t have done that.

He’s probably not going to make it out alive.

“You know, I’m not sure I believe that,” he says, trying to get back on track.

She circles him like a lion stalking its prey. “Okay, Phil. Fine. You almost got yourself killed. Again.”

His back hits the mat with a thud. “And you think finishing the job will make you feel better?”

Melinda cocks her head. “It might.”

He takes her slight hesitation to make his move. Before she can register what’s happening, he’s flipped them over, her wrists pinned to the ground.

He really doesn’t remember getting hard.

When their eyes meet again he recognizes the look flashing across her face. He’s seen it many times before.

Melinda May is either about to end him, or fuck him senseless.

He’s (fairly) sure it’s the latter.

A wolffish grin slides across his lips. “Well, lucky for you, I’m very much alive.” He trains his eyes on a droplet of sweat rolling across her collarbone. He follows it with his tongue.

Her breath hitches and she fists her hands into his shirt, pushing them both into a sitting position.

She crashes her lips against his as he winds her ponytail through his fingers. He can feel the desire through her leggings and he haphazardly starts thrusting against her thigh.

“Phil,” she groans, right before plunging her tongue deeper into his mouth. While she explores his upper half by mouth, her hand trails down his midsection and under the hem of his sweats.

When her hand wraps around him he sees stars. She makes fast work, leaving him panting and writhing against the wall in mere seconds.

He feels a familiar tingle at the base of his spine and realizes this is going to end a lot quicker than he wants it to.

Melinda whines as he pulls her hand from his pants and slowly stands up.

“Too old,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Would have lost it right there.”

She shrugs and bites her lip. “Wouldn’t have minded.”

_Goddammit_.

He pulls her up to his level and skirts a hand over her cheek. “Still mad at me?”

“Maybe. You might be able to make it up to me though.” She motions towards the door.

“Fitz told me I should just expect to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Fitz,” she drawls, palming her hand against the front of his pants, “clearly doesn’t understand the importance of makeup sex.”

He twitches in anticipation.

 

 


End file.
